Actions Speak Louder Than Words
by SpikeQueen
Summary: "What are Fred and I, next-door neighbours?" Molly ponders the significance of this statement, wondering if it held any more weight than it was meant to. Takes place after the War; includes Fred's death.


**A/N: I just always wondered if this meant more than it should have. I thought it was pretty funny when I read it in the Order of the Phoenix, but then I got to wondering...did Molly even hear the statement? It didn't sound like she did. So, I wondered...what if she did hear it? What did she think?**

"…_A prefect! That's everyone in the family!"_

"_What are Fred and I, next-door neighbours?" George asked indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son. _(The Order of the Phoenix, pg. 149)

Molly stared through the window at the Burrow, the twinge of guilt she had allowed herself to feel in that moment manifesting to an overwhelming sense of grief as her haunted eyes rested upon Fred's grave seen through the glass. She knew they would play it off, teasing, mischievous as ever, her actions just one more brush that they took in stride. But did they? A mother never stopped wondering. Yet _this _mother did not mention it again.

"…_A prefect! That's everyone in the family!"_

Why? Perhaps it was because this level of sentimentality was uncomfortable to reach with them. Perhaps it was because they did not seem affected, as always. Perhaps it should have been exceedingly obvious that she loved…_loves, _them. Or perhaps she was merely afraid to bring it up in fear of their too-confident reactions, in fear of their blasé attitudes towards such a strong subject, in fear of her own disparaging confidence in such a time when theirs was strong as ever. In fear that she would not be able to convey the message.

"_What are Fred and I, next-door neighbours?" George asked indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside and flung her arms around her youngest son._

Molly's lower lip trembled. She struggled to keep the tears at bay. Had she really hugged Ron in pride, forgetting about her two other sons as they retched in the background? Were they retching in humour for Ron's position or had they been retching out of her show of affection and pride in him rather than themselves? She had flung her arms around him; smothering him in the glory he so very much deserved; Fred and George shunted to the side…like she always had…or at least, seemed to.

"_What are Fred and I, next-door neighbours?" George asked indignantly, as his mother pushed him aside…_

'Had I really pushed him aside?' Molly wondered to herself, watching the rain soaking Fred's grave and George with it, his eyes staring blankly at the spot where should have been, laughing as always. This simply further reinforced her assumption that she had shunted them to the side where due credit had to be placed. Did they see it as symbolic? Did they think she was pushing aside her love for them, to be replaced by new love for Ron, and Harry, and Hermione?

Merlin, she hoped not. It could not be farther from the truth. The Order often teased the mother's matronly instincts; her frenzy to take care of all and leave no one out. They teased her about her heart being the size of a hippogriff, and twice as strong, though she often questioned this statement. What constitutes a big heart? Care; affection, where it is due? It is always due; so by this logic, she had a heart big enough to hold affection for anyone. And a strong heart? What was this? The power to forgive, the power to worry incessantly, the power to love those who had wronged her so? Did she possess this? They often said revenge was for the weak, while forgiveness was retained for the strong.

But at the Final Battle, what were the words she had uttered while defending Ginny from that Bellatrix Lestrange, but an implication that her daughter was one of the family she could kill for?

And it was over. In a flash of green. A cold rage she never thought possible had consumed her. Around her, defendants stared in awe, relief, but not a little fear. She should have been proud to protect her daughter, and she was, but this did not come without a haunted countenance as well. She had lost her humanity, to protect those that made her human; a paradox within itself. But was that not revenge? Did this not constitute a weak heart? Yet there she was, praised for bravery, strength, and big-heartedness; undeservingly, in her opinion; though often justified for the good of others.

It _was _for the good of others, Molly attempted to realize, seeing the traumatized look turn to one of justice on the boy, Neville's, face. His was not the only one, as many had been traumatized by the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange née Black. So perhaps her heart was big.

But if it was so, did Fred and George realize? Did they know they would never be pushed out, as it was for anyone else who had entered her heart? At George's broken face, and the memory of Fred's words promising he would make her proud when she had found out about their escape act from Hogwarts, she wasn't sure they did.

"_What are Fred and I, next-door neighbours?" George asked indignantly…_

Indignant. He had sounded so indignant, and Fred had made no move to disagree, his expression identical to that of his twin's. Their tone, as always, has sounded as though it was all in good fun…but was it? If she had listened closely, if she had paid them an ounce of the attention they had deserved, would she have noticed a darker undertone, and ambiguous meaning to their supposed, ostensibly teasing tone?

"_What are Fred and I, next-door neighbours?"_

Next-door neighbours. Why would they think that? In that moment, they had all their rights to think completely like that, of course, but had she given them any reason to believe otherwise at another point in their young lives? What were next-door neighbours, in any case? Not very significant people in your lives, at best, in the usual case; they were the type of people who happened in every now and then to politely ask for a cup of sugar. They were the type of people who offered to help, who were offered help, only time to time, out of the sake of reliability in times of need rather than substantial care for their well-being. These types of people were all talk and no action; words to make you believe they were polite and reliable; lack of action showing you their emotionless, uncaring demeanor to your lives at all. After all, next-door neighbours only dropped by for themselves, or because they were to be utilized. Not loved as a human, but utilized as an object.

Was that how they saw themselves? Objects of humour and the like? No one took them seriously, Molly thought, including herself at times. But no one could doubt their seriousness now, staring at a shell of the man George left behind and just a whisper and a shadow of Fred's presence. Did they think they were insignificant portions of the family, not fulfilling her wishes of completing an entire pride of lions' set of prefects? Because they were part of the pride, nonetheless. They were part of her pride at any rate, in both meanings of the word. In fact, this was why they were part of her pride all the more. For what was more honorable but the self-confidence to be your own people in a family full of achievers? They were no less successful, even more in several senses of the word. But did they know that?

"_What are Fred and I?"_

What were they, indeed. The better question would be; what weren't they? They had everything people craved, everything necessary, to provide comfort yet humour, lightness yet seriousness, intelligence yet false stupidity. They weren't everything Molly hoped they would be. They were more. They were wonderful beings; a species full of the imagination, creativity, intelligence, strength, seriousness, kindness, and open-heartedness she could only dream of possessing. In their lives, they lived in constant shadow, with Molly herself not acknowledging their many victories. Yet they were self-confident, they were happy and proud with themselves despite gaining less than a whisper of the praise they deserved.

Next-door neighbours? Perish the thought. Why had it appeared at all, when they should so clearly see themselves as so much more? Next-door neighbours were insignificant, small people who barely brushed your memories or affected you at all, while the twins were not just the opposite, but a stark improvement from that as well.

"_What are Fred and I?"_

"My sons," Molly whispered to herself through the glass of the window. "You are nothing but, yet everything more. You are my sons, and I fear I have lost you both not only to yourselves and your grief, but to me. My incompetence. My incompetence to acknowledge your worth where it was well more than due. You told me you would make me proud that day, Fred? You didn't. You made me proud long before that. Your worth knows no bounds, and believe me, Fred, believe me, George, when I say I had known it all along. You are not next-door neighbours. You are the blood that runs through my veins; their halting bringing about my own end. You are in fact more than my own sons through blood relation, you are my pride. You are my life."

And with that, Molly finally let the stream of tears fall down her cheeks while stepping outside to join George, falling to the ground, unnoticed by the weather's mirroring of her own internal storm of emotion.


End file.
